Light in the Dark
by bracetheace
Summary: S3 - A little story set shortly after John's release from prison. Anna cloaks she and John in darkness in their bedroom to find out what they can really see. (What can I say, this is pretty much just fluffy smut)


**A/N:** So this is my first try at something smutty, so be gentle, dear friends, but do let me know what I inevitably screw up. This is literally just fluff, no plot, had to get my first M story out of my system before I delve into smut AND plot. Mucho thanks to Ella/Jo/Paige/Lisa/Kelly for helping me gather up the courage to write/post this. BRB, gonna go hide in a corner now.

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They fumbled their way into their small bedroom, Anna clinging to him with every staggered step. He attempted to disentangle his hands from hers and move to turn on the lamp, but was stopped by Anna's insistent grip on his side. "I need to turn on the light, I'm afraid I'll run into something."

"Leave it off," she whispered in his ear, dragging his head down to lean against hers and pushing her chest into his, throwing him off-balance.

"Anna, I can't see a blessed thing." John stumbled in the pitch black of their room. It didn't seem like she had heard him, or if she had, she paid him no attention as her tongue lapped at the crook of his ear. "You're making this very difficult, love. I can't see where I'm…" His words were cut short by the feeling of her teeth nipping at his earlobe. He stifled a groan as she drew the lobe into her mouth, tongue swiping over the skin in warm strokes.

"Leave it off," she whispered again, running a hand down his neck, urging her fingers into the tiny gap between the stiffness of his collar and the quickly warming skin of his throat. The collar became a vice with her hand inside, and John would have commented on his inability to take a full breath, but the desire to breathe had left him as soon as he felt Anna's fingers trailing scattered paths of heat over his skin.

He sought out her mouth, wrapping his lips over hers, tongue sweeping over her bottom lip and accepting a wordless invitation to meet hers. She moaned softly and he crushed her to him, wanting to feel their bodies align in the way he so loved, worshipping the feel of her so solid yet soft against him. He desperately wanted to turn the light on, or light a candle at the very least. His longing to look upon her, so flushed and lovely, was overpowering. For so long, he was in the desert and the thought of her face, her smile, her eyes, quenched his thirst, and now he was desperate to drink her in whenever possible, whenever they were alone.

"I want to see you," John crooned into her mouth. It sounded like begging, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

She seemed to understand the thoughts hurtling through his mind as she spoke soft, low words that had his stomach clenching and his body trembling of its own accord.

"You see me everyday," she whispered and pressed her hips up into his. "Right now, just feel me. Do you feel me, John?" Her hands slipped out of his collar and scratched down his arms, still fully clothed from the day. "Let me touch you, feel you," she said into the darkness.

He had hardly a moment to act on her demand before her fingers fitted themselves under his jaw, alternating between caressing and scraping at the day's fresh stubble. She moved this blind assault to his chest, bunching up the fabric of his shirt as she sought to unbutton and remove the offending item. He helped her and felt a wave of ridiculousness wash over him, standing bare-chested in the pitch-black corner of their room.

But such thoughts were soon vanquished as Anna's hands, fervent only a moment ago, slowed and began a purposeful exploration of his body. Sweeping across his collarbone. Probing. She made tiny noises, tutting to herself, as her hands traced over skin she could not see. The heel of a palm brushed over one of his nipples and he shuddered and let out a noise as she pulled her hand away quickly.

"What's wrong?" he asked and his voice sounded absurdly loud amongst their mingling breaths and the quiet of the room.

"I felt you twitch. Against my hand." Her voice sounded almost whimsical and more than ever he wished he could see her. He could picture the grin on her face that would be both shy and lustful, so uniquely her. "It tingled," she whispered so quietly that he barely heard her at all, but as her words registered in his ever-slowing brain, he dragged her even closer to him, feeling his chest rub deliciously across her still-clothed frame, pressing his hips down on her as she met him in the middle.

"I like touching you, without seeing. It's…different, and new," she admitted, and he groaned at her words and the insistent touch of her hands that was moving ever lower.

John drew in a steadying breath. This was arousing him more than he thought possible. His trousers were becoming an impediment. He latched his mouth to hers, swimming in the feel of her and the sounds she made deep in the back of her throat.

"Touch me," she preened into his mouth. He wanted to swallow those words, grow them in the pit of his stomach for the rest of eternity.

He obliged. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness and he could make out her profile, but like she had him, he wanted it to be solely about touching her, so he closed his eyes and reached his hands out to follow the sound of her voice. His fingers found solid ground upon her jaw and danced over the smooth skin that met him there, before traveling down, tickling at her chin and neck and the hollow of her throat. She whimpered and curled a leg around the back of one of his own, bringing them impossibly close.

His hands moved to her breasts, teasing at her over her nightgown. He felt her responding against his palms and dear god, he was noticing for the first time what it was to simply feel her body tense and react to his touch. John couldn't help but match her quiet moans.

He could see it all perfectly in his mind's eye, enough times had he moved his hands this way over her body, cupping her, stroking her, but this was new, this sense of blind excitement and his skin was scorched under her wild caress, which was now focused just below his waistline.

"I know your body," he growled into her hair as she arched her back further into him, "better than I know my own."

Their mouths met of their own accord. He felt her pulse beating hard against his skin, everywhere at once. Her nightgown was on the floor. He wasn't sure who had pulled it off, but he appreciated her bare chest against his nonetheless.

It was like being with her for the first time. Without sight, he felt the need to learn her all over again, every bit of skin, muscle and bone. He wanted no part of her to go unexplored, no skin left uncharted. He had been without her warmth, not just the heat of her skin, but the warmth of her eyes, of her soul, of her very being, for so long, he wanted to grow old holding her, to eclipse this world with her in his arms. Such a mighty creature, his Anna, stardust, lighting up his night sky.

His touches slowed as his thoughts took off, he swayed her back and forth, passion only growing in a moment of appreciation at being in each other's arms, happy to be home. Their bodies glided against one another, a lazy rhythm. He could almost feel her stare burning into him, as she pulled him even closer, nuzzling her face into his chest, tongue toying at the base of his collar bone.

"John." It was a whine, a whisper, a caress of wind across his cheek and he met her in the middle, lips like dueling pianos. He swung her one way, trying to edge closer to the bed, sticking his arm out and feeling for the outline of their mattress. He nearly lost his footing and she giggled up at him. He smiled against her hair, hoisting her onto the bed. He quickly rid himself of his trousers and crawled onto the mattress, praying he was firmly in the middle so he wouldn't roll unceremoniously onto the floor.

"Anna?" A question into the dark, answered by a pair of hands pushing him into the mattress, mussing his hair. Lips trailed across his chest and his fingers massaged the tops of her arms.

She settled on his legs and chest. John could tell by the way she was perched that she was carefully avoiding his knee and the realization made his heart swell even more, seemingly impossible for an organ that was already beating solely for her.

Their lips touched, pecks at first, but when she shifted and felt him pressing hard against the outside of her thigh, she smothered his mouth with hers. John's palms were a flurry of movement in the dark, across her breasts, her jaw, down to the plane of her stomach and she melted under his touch.

He felt the need to ask, despite knowing the answer. "May I?" His fingers tapped at the tops of her knickers and she wiggled to give him the leverage as he sat up and pulled her fully onto his lap. His briefs were the only barrier between them and Anna grasped at the material, attempting to remove them. John chuckled and rolled her over, kicking himself out of the boxers and leaving both of them bare.

His body pressed against hers and what he couldn't see, good lord, could he _feel. _Her softness, her heat, the beat of her heart against his chest. His fingers touched her low, gently, and she moved against him, hissing encouraging whispers across his hair.

Anna's breath grew short and her hand insistent upon him, squeezing his bicep before moving decidedly lower. John groaned and tried to maintain control. His arousal so ratcheted up that he could hardly think.

Anna's whinnying moan drew him back and she moved under him, to where she so badly wanted him and where he so desperately wanted to be. His eyes had closed, but he opened them and could just make out the shining of her irises before he joined them and they stilled, for just one moment, John reaching out to cup her face in his hand. He couldn't see her, but he didn't need to.

"I love you," he whispered, in case she had any doubt.

"I love you," she responded in breath that was lost as he began to move slowly above her.

The way she writhed, the way a current ran through his body, he wondered if she could feel the electricity racing through him. He felt as if she were transferring lightning into his veins. He didn't need a lamp or a flame, she was his light in the dark.


End file.
